


SephLaz Tumblr porn pile

by junonreactor



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Come Eating, D/s, Exhibitionism, Facial, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junonreactor/pseuds/junonreactor
Summary: Aggregating the Sephiroth/Lazard NSFW that would otherwise be scattered around and censored on Tumblr. Tags and warnings to be added as needed, but will contain D/s themes throughout.
Relationships: Lazard Deusericus/Sephiroth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Cumslut Sephiroth" for @sephislut. Sephiroth finally gets Lazard to stop talking so pretty...
> 
> Oral sex and cum facial/eating.

Sephiroth was a man of many natural talents. Swordplay, military strategy, operational tactics – at all these Sephiroth neatly outstripped the competition, working with the graceful ease of a person who never yet washed against failure’s rough, unpleasant shore. Less publically, but no less immaculately, he also had a sommelier’s taste in wine, perfect pitch, and beautiful handwriting.

But the thing Sephiroth was best at, the skill to which he applied himself with expert, undivided attention and utmost confidence, was one that only a fortunate few were privy to.

Sephiroth sucked cock like a god. He sucked cock like he was trying and succeeding at destroying a man in the hot, tight forge of his throat and putting him back together in a new shape, one that was marked by Sephiroth forever. A thousand years of lovers and imperial courtesans and bawdy poets and no one, not one of them, could have looked and felt so good, could even imagine it could feel like this. Lazard had said this and more, tongue loose as Sephiroth’s own tongue licked what felt suspiciously like magic up and down his shaft.

“If you’re still this articulate, I’ve applied myself insufficiently,” Sephiroth laughed, dark silver eyelashes lowered over green glow of his amusement.

Lazard did lose significant vocabulary after that, reduced to swearing he’d never tire of Sephiroth’s beautiful mouth, that if he died right now it would be worth it. Fucking Sephiroth’s throat, Lazard’s hands wrapped in his hair causing Sephiroth to divert one hand from Lazard’s hips to pay some attention to his own cock, reduced him yet again, to a creature of curses and moans. And then Sephiroth wrested back overt control and started in on his cruelest, most wonderful trick – he could tell exactly when to stop, leaving Lazard a hairsbreadth from orgasm, something he would do again and again, his firm thumb and forefinger tight around the root of Lazard’s cock, until the only words left were “Please, please, please.”

Sephiroth gave him a long, tantalizing smile, dark red, wet lips brushing Lazard’s desperately hard glans. His voice was only slightly roughened, dark and slow, and his eyes shuttered in anticipatory satisfaction. “Mmm. Come on my face.”

With a few quick jerks of his hand, Lazard did, crying with profound relief. There was always so much after getting treated like this, big, thick shots of come that he felt well up from deep in his balls, seeming to take detours through his shaking limbs as they went. The first one caught Sephiroth on the cheek; the next got as far as his forehead and cowlicked hair. Sephiroth let him paint him, white on white, tongue out, licking and sucking the last few drops from the tip of his twitching cock. Lazard panted like he’d just run up the stairwell from the atrium to the archives, shivering to watch Sephiroth crack one eye open – fuck, Lazard really hadn’t meant to come on his eyelashes, but some had run over his eyebrow on the right side – and swipe up some of the cum running down his cheek with his thumb. Lazard’s balls and the bottom of his belly gave up one more lazy squeeze as he watched Sephiroth wipe his face and lick the semen off his fingers, content as a couerl with a canary.

"You’re amazing,“ he sighed, flopping down on the bed, boneless and bliss-tired. “I’m not sure I can move, but let me do something for you…”

“Mmm.” Sephiroth just smiled, rustling around in the bedside drawer for lube and one of the mako-resistant SOLDIER condoms. “Moving shouldn’t be necessary. Just roll over and cross your ankles. It’s been awhile since I fucked your thighs…”


	2. Anon prompt #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth gets tied up by the hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: ... "tying Seph up with his own hair"
> 
> Contains D/s and bondage

“Having to exercise enough restraint _not_ to break my restraints seems to defeat the purpose.”

“I suppose it is long enough.” Lazard considered the problem. “For your hands, certainly. If you’d like be tied up completely, that might provide a certain logistical challenge that, um, I’m sure we could overcome…” 

“Hands are a good start,” Sephiroth almost purred. “As enticing as it might be, I don’t think I have the patience right now to wait for you to puzzle out the rest.” 

“Oh, you meant… Right now?” Lazard flushed. “Ah. Well.” He reached out and grabbed a hank of hair from the nape of Sephiroth’s neck, giving it an experimental twist and tug that caused the other man to hum appreciatively. “I don’t think I ought to try and knot this directly, but I do have an idea.” He rummaged around in the box he kept under his bed, quickly finding a coil of plain jute rope – and the dragon-leather cuffs with the mythril chain that Sephiroth had destroyed three weeks before. “Turn around. And put your hands behind your head like – yes, exactly. Thank you.” 

It only took a little imagination and a few simple coils and knots to fashion a handcuff of braids –Sephiroth’s wrists braided in three times each in looping plaits, held in place by his hair alone, the rope used only to finish the braid itself and secure it back to its point of origin between Sephiroth’s hands and head. Not his most elegant work, but it looked like it could endure some pulling, anyway. “How’s that? Sturdy enough?” 

Sephiroth gave an experimental tug, humming again. “I imagine I _could_ get out of it, but it might be unpleasant enough to be dissuading.” 

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” Lazard kissed his knitted fingers, stroking up and down his bare shoulders where the ends of his hair brushed the top of his spine. “Now, last time, when you broke that very expensive pair of cuffs, I was trying something you seemed to rather enjoy.” He prompted Sephiroth to fall over onto the bed with a slight shove to his back, rubbing his face on the sheets as he got comfortable with his arms restrained. “Do you want to do that again?” 

Sephiroth gave a muffled laugh, and used his toes to beckon Lazard to come and try.


	3. Anon prompt #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth merits a proper spanking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: "not to be horny on main for that request for prompts but like... maybe some quick bdsm style spanking for whatever slightly incorrect thing seph purposely did??? like he emptied the entirety of the brita and didnt refill it and hornily snarked lazard about it when lazard questions him???? i dunno but like, bdsm spanking ihugyftdr"
> 
> WELL, anon, i asked for prompts, you asked for spanking, and ask and ye shall receive! This got too long for tumblr altogether.
> 
> contains D/s, impact play, riding crop, humping, naughty Sephiroth causing kitchen inconvenience

The electric kettle was empty, again, and when Lazard went to refill it from the water filter, that was empty, too. Having Sephiroth over for the weekend was fantastic, yes, and he was resigned to the SOLDIER eating everything in his fridge and then emptying his pantry for seconds -- that was just what people with SOLDIER metabolisms did -- but not refilling the water filter? He'd even mentioned it specifically, and yet Sephiroth always left him bleary-eyed, alone in his kitchen after two nights of wonderful but exhausting sex, enduring _two whole extra steps_ in order to get coffee.

"The sink is _right there_," he complained, to no one. 

\----- 

It was a smoggy Sunday morning, with the kind of watery, sidelong winter light that made it a chore to get up. Lazard heaved out of his tangled sheets, stretching and scratching his belly, visited the bathroom, and then followed the scent of toast and black tea to the kitchen. 

Sephiroth looked like he'd been up for awhile, with his hair air-drying in heavy gray waves around his bare shoulders, a stretched-out old pair of Lazard's university sweatpants with dead elastic low on his hips as he lounged against the countertop, crunching steadily through a loaf of bread and reading the paper. He gave Lazard a small, sly smile as Lazard appreciated the sight of him. 

"How's the propaganda this morning?" Lazard folded the paper filter for his pour-over, and went to flick on the kettle. You had to rinse the filter with hot water first, if you wanted your coffee not to taste like boiled cardboard -- 

It was empty. As was the water filter. 

Sephiroth was watching him, sly smile even slyer. 

"Are... Are you doing it on purpose?" Lazard blinked. "My coffee. I just want my coffee, and you... You..." He huffed in irritation. "Really, Sephiroth, what's the meaning of this?" 

Sephiroth was grinning now, damn him, not his dear, delighted grin that Lazard loved, but his mischievous, spoiled grin that Lazard also loved... though in a somewhat different way. He'd folded the paper and his lean against the countertop had gotten deliberately provocative. "Oh, have I?" Sephiroth challenged him, voice low and almost laughing. "How careless of me. Are you annoyed?" 

"Yes, actually." Lazard's decaffeinated upper brain protested, but his lower brain had no problems figuring out what it wanted -- and what Sephiroth was clearly angling for, with his cock becoming prominent in his sweatpants. "You. You were _trying_ to annoy me." 

"Mmm. I should probably be punished." 

Lazard sighed in exasperation. "You could just skip over the bad behavior and _ask_ me to spank you." 

Sephiroth almost pouted, the big ham. "You go harder when you're actually annoyed." 

Oh, _there_ was the rub. Lazard's cock twitched. He enjoyed giving Sephiroth a good swat on the ass -- it was a beautiful ass, and it pinked up very prettily -- but if Sephiroth wanted it harder... He shook his head, but he was holding back a grin of his own as he approached the other man, skimming his hands down his sides until they framed his narrow hips, just above his waistband. "If I do this, I'll just be reinforcing your bad behavior. But you really _have_ been very naughty. It's quite a dilemma." 

Sephiroth eyed him from under his silver lashes, pupils getting round. "Hit as hard as you can, and I'll always fill up the filter." 

"Ask next time instead of being stubborn, and I'll do you one better than just spanking you with my hand." Lazard slipped his hands under Sephiroth's sweats, giving his ass a good, solid grope. It really was a great ass, and now Lazard had a mutually beneficial, immediately actionable plan for it. "No more messing around with my coffee, okay? Just ask, and I'll give you what you need." 

That had Sephiroth's attention, and had replaced his coquettish behavior with curiosity. Lazard gave him another squeeze, and nosed under the half-damp fall of hair to kiss beneath Sephiroth's ear. The taller man's long cock was hard in his sweats, hard against Lazard's belly. "If you want me to beat your ass -- really beat your ass -- just say so." 

Sephiroth gave a fine shiver, the kind that meant his imagination had really kicked in. "Mm. _Yes_. I'd like that." 

"Good." Lazard nipped him, lightly. "Take these ratty old things off and go lay on the bed." 

Sephiroth vanished, leaving the sweatpants behind, and Lazard followed him. He took a long moment to admire the sight of Sephiroth's long legs, tight ass, and elegant back muscles, tastefully displayed as he'd swept his hair over his shoulder, watching him with one eye as he rummaged in his closet. He'd bought the object he was looking for now back when he'd first gotten flush with money, actual money, and gone a little overboard getting used to the novel material situation. He'd never actually had a chance to really use it, but he'd, well, practiced a bit, on the mattress, pretending... Ah, there it was. 

"This is a riding crop." Lazard tested its flexibility, bouncing the switch end against his left palm. "It can can give you a much stronger, more concentrated swat, and more of them, since it won't tire out my hand. Still interested?" 

"Yes. Stupid question," Sephiroth said, eyeing the crop with open, hungry interest. 

Lazard stretched his arm, giving a few preliminary swats to the bed to test his swing and aim, and then smacked Sephiroth on the ass. He inhaled, humming, giving Lazard a sideways look that said _yes, please_. 

A few more sharp, directed swats to the same spot, and it was a bright pink compared to Sephiroth's natural paleness. Lazard adjusted his grip on the crop and adjusted his cock in his underwear, turning to make a mirror pink mark on the other cheek. The pink on Sephiroth's ears and the flexion of his toes meant it was working for him, too. Lazard struck again, lower and faster this time, switching sides more or less at random, aiming for the crease between Sephiroth's glutes and upper thighs. 

"Uhmmm. Harder. Can you go harder?" Sephiroth's voice was thick, hips canting against the bed. 

"Certainly." Lazard put more into it, laying the crop's strike flatter, so more of it hit at once, across the width of Sephiroth's ass. He shuddered, spreading his legs and tightening his glutes, working his cock against the bedsheets in time with Lazard's full-armed swats. It was rather stimulating, to know that no matter how hard he hit, he couldn't hurt Sephiroth if he tried -- that even his most concentrated efforts could only be pleasing, never painful. 

A few truly unhinged, shoulder-wrenching smacks directly to the lower middle of Sephiroth's ass, right across the seam above his hole, and the SOLDIER bucked hard against the mattress, legs muscles bunching, coming with a soft, gasping cry on Lazard's sheets. Lazard replaced strikes with gentle flicks, dragging the tip of the crop lightly over his glowing pink skin. Sephiroth shuddered, and Lazard dropped the crop, kneeling on the bed to caress the warmed-up, sensitive flesh. He coaxed Sephiroth onto his side, away from the wet spot -- he'd have to remember to put down a nice soft towel next time -- and stroked his chest and arms, enjoying the look of satisfaction on that lovely face, the still-open pupils, the fading flush over his cheekbones that brought out his faint freckles. 

"Did you like that?" Lazard asked, though the answer was fairly obvious. Sephiroth nodded enthusiastically, smiling the dear, delighted grin that Lazard loved, and snaked a hand into Lazard's underwear to give _him_ a grope. 

\----- 

Not too long after, with the sun still yet to make a real appearance through the polluted winter gloom, Lazard got up again, this time shooing Sephiroth out of bed with him. It was Sunday, but there were other things to do besides lounge around, and he still hadn't had his coffee. If he stayed laid down now, he'd just fall back asleep. 

"Since you've messed up the sheets, you're doing a load of laundry. And, oh -- please fill up the water filter!"


	4. Anon prompt #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth eats a slightly hesitant Lazard out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for "S/L - skittish"
> 
> My first thought was a skittish Sephiroth, but then I wondered what might make Lazard a little nervous!
> 
> Contains rimming, Sephiroth not being the greatest at getting prior consent, and implied foot stuff.

Lazard laughed breathily. "That's... Kind of low."

Sephiroth hummed, nuzzling, and licked even lower. 

Lazard gasped, sitting up, catching Sephiroth's head between his thighs in a squeeze. "You -- you don't have to do that!" 

"I know." His breath against Lazard's hole made the man squirm, cock twitching even as he grabbed Sephiroth by the widow's peak, pushing him slightly away. 

Lazard was blushing hard, burning red down to his chest, open conflict on his face in a way Sephiroth rarely saw. He rubbed his head into Lazard's hand reassuringly then moved away, kissing gently up Lazard's thigh towards his knee until that defensive posture changed -- a relaxation, his abdomen softening in some form of relief, but his facial expression still looked torn between desire and embarrassment. 

"If you really don't want me to, of course I won't." 

Lazard let himself flop back down, breathing hard out, making a frustrated groan. "It's just... You surprised me. Give me a minute to, uh, adjust to the concept. It's rather... Intimate, I suppose. Uhm." 

Sephiroth propped his chin on Lazard's knee, evaluating. Yes, he supposed he ought to have asked first, before trying to rim Lazard. He hadn't seen the downside to such an action, but it clearly left Lazard feeling vulnerable. "Sorry," Sephiroth said, reaching up to stroke Lazard's belly in what he hoped was a conciliatory way. 

Lazard snorted, propping himself back up on his elbows, his erection mostly flagged but the usual half-amused, self-contained expression back on his face. He squinted a bit, reaching for Sephiroth's cheek, tucking his bangs behind his ear. "Hmm. It's fine. If you, uh, _really_ want to..." He was blushing again. "Can you ask first, next time?" 

"Can 'next time' be now?" 

Making an aggrieved, put-upon moan, Lazard pulled a pillow over his face. "Fine. Yes," he said, muffled. "You know I can't deny you a damn thing, just... Please promise to wash your mouth out and brush your teeth before you go trying to kiss me." 

Was _that_ the problem? "Of course," Sephiroth promised, stroking Lazard's outer thighs, nuzzling his lower belly, enjoying the way his blond body hair bristled against his fingertips and cheek. Lazard seemed much more relaxed behind the safety of the pillow he'd clutched to his face, and the proximity of Sephiroth's face to his cock had quickly reinvigorated the organ. Sephiroth sucked the head, feeling it swell in his mouth, sliding both hands up against the grain of hair to grab Lazard's glutes and push his cock deeper down his throat. He did that for awhile, taking charge of Lazard's hips, pulling his lower body up until it was fully supported by his hands, and then broke off with a soft, wet pop and a muffled curse from higher up the bed. 

"Okay?" 

"Fuck. Uh. Y-yeah." 

Sephiroth easily held Lazard up with just his right arm, using his left to stroke the base of Lazard's cock and lift his balls -- he spared a few soft sucks for those, too, one after the other, before slowly mouthing down the seam between his legs, hard licks against his perineum, soft licks and hot breath around his tight-wound, tiny hole. Lazard made a strangled, almost pained noise, but didn't tense up or try to wriggle away. Sephiroth let him get used to his proximity, his tongue barely moving, until Lazard crossed his ankles behind Sephiroth's shoulders and pressed him with his heels. 

He licked in earnest, using the flat of his tongue to wet and soften Lazard's hole before darting the hard-pointed tip in, wriggling and flicking, in and out a few shallow millimeters, barely breaching the reluctantly yielding ring of muscle. Lazard was talking under his protective pillow, a litany of very encouraging curses. "Fuck, Sephiroth, oh fuck, fuck that feels _so_ good, oh my gods, why does it feel so good, oh _fuck_..." 

Sephiroth wondered if he could loosen Lazard's hole like this, enough to get his tongue truly inside. He set to work, swirling his pointed tongue around the ring, lapping at his hole. Lazard reached up to grab his cock and Sephiroth chased his hand away, taking it for himself in a loose grip, letting Lazard's rocking hips have a slight choice between the wet, dedicated pleasure of his tongue and his dry, teasing palm. Lazard was moaning wordlessly now, his jilted hand holding his own ass open so Sephiroth could get closer, could lick _more_, and Sephiroth could indeed get his tongue inside, as deep as it could go. He worked it in and out, swirling in and flicking when he got there. Lazard was rock-hard in his hand, cock twitching with each thrust of his tongue, and Lazard dug his heels in with desperation, toes curled into Sephiroth's back, begging for Sephiroth to make him come. 

The head of Lazard's cock was slippery, sliding easily through Sephiroth's loose grip in time with the tongue fucking his ass, and Lazard came hard and fast, hole pulsing around Sephiroth as semen shot onto Lazard's chest and belly. He didn't make his usual sounds, didn't even breathe for a moment, just shuddered, body clenching and spasming, thighs quivering around Sephiroth's ears. 

"Oh fuck," Lazard said at last, sounding a little broken. "Oh fuck, I'm still coming, oh..." Sephiroth wrung another thick upwelling of come out of him, running down his fingers and the back of his hand. 

Lazard emerged from under the pillow as Sephiroth withdrew his tongue, giving a few gentle, soft licks and kisses to Lazard's opened, twitching hole. His face was red and sweaty, and his hair was a mussed, damp wreck. The look in his eyes was... _Very_ satisfying. It looked like the one Lazard had worn when he'd fucked Sephiroth the first time, an expression Sephiroth had come to understand as one of awe. 

"That was amazing. You're amazing. Oh my gods." Lazard lay flat, limp and panting, like he wasn't planning on ever moving again. There was a great deal of come spattered over his chest, and normally Sephiroth would have eagerly lapped it up, but Lazard has prohibited him from kisses, and he imagined that might extend to him placing his mouth on other body parts, as well. He settled for wiping up some of the come pooled in Lazard's chest hairs with his fingers instead, bringing them to his mouth to taste as he carefully extracted himself from between Lazard's legs, letting Lazard's lower body unwind from around his shoulders and sink back down onto the bed. 

Lazard cleaned himself off with a handful of tissues instead, including a few wipes between his legs that made him blush to his ears again. He laughed, shaking his head. "I never... Gods, Sephiroth, you're a menace. Thank you." 

Sephiroth hummed, satisfied in all immediate respects except one, and guided Lazard's well-pedicured, soft-soled foot to his cock. To Sephiroth, all of Lazard was _quite_ intriguing.


	5. Caught in the act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you can't fully escape scrutiny, you might as well make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For suave-silver on tumblr, who wanted "L/S voyeurism? Or caught in the act?"
> 
> Tseng isn't as cool a cucumber in this as he probably should be, but it's pre-CC, and he's gotta fuck up every now and then, right?
> 
> I don't know who the other Turk is -- someone from BC, maybe Shotgun. Whoever you like.
> 
> Contains voyeurism, exhibitionism (because you can't creep up on Sephiroth without being made), oral and anal sex, and Tseng being well into it.

"There's a Turk watching us."

Lazard knew better than to indulge his instinct to look around. "Which one?"

Sephiroth turned away slightly, and made a brief tap in the middle of his forehead. "_Sīshēngzǐ._"

Lazard laughed, though he wasn't feeling amused. He endeavored not to be parochial, knew it was no better for such unwanted offspring anywhere in the world, but marking them out so obviously struck him as wrong in a way that was impossible for him not to feel adamant about. Dammit, he just _liked_ that Turk, even when he was planting bugs in Lazard's flat and trying to spy on what was meant to be a private evening. Well, Sephiroth always found the bugs, and had spotted the Turk, and they had made it rather easy pickings for him, _en plein air_ on what was not quite an enclosed rooftop...

"I suppose we should head back inside," he said, making no move to get up. The weather-beaten rattan couch they lounged on was damaged just enough to be maximally comfortable, though it creaked dangerously whenever Sephiroth shifted his weight. The western sky was a fantastic yellow and gold, Junon airport traffic close enough to be interesting but far enough not to be noisy, with a balmy breeze coming off the ocean. Honestly, one Turk or twenty, the only thing Lazard wanted to go back downstairs for was another vodka and lime.

Sephiroth looked equally aggrieved at the idea of moving. "I had rather been hoping we might continue to enjoy ourselves out here," he murmured, fine brows drawn together.

"...We could," Lazard said.

"Lazard," Sephiroth repeated slowly, "there is a _Turk_ watching us."

"They already know. Veld personally promised me he would, and I quote, 'break your kneecaps if you break his heart.'"

Sephiroth huffed, somewhere between offended and amused. "Did he now."

"He did. I can't say I'm terribly worried. It seemed a bit like, mmm, tacit permission."

Sephiroth's smile slowly unfurled and Lazard knew he'd won him over -- never much of a hard sell, unwanted audience or no. 

\-----

For a moment Tseng thought he'd been made. He'd just been installing a surreptitious window camera, taking advantage of the apartment across the alley being empty for the weekend while the old couple who lived here visited their grandchildren. That done, he figured he'd check the neighboring roof for lines of sight, since Shiruken reported Locale had finally noticed that his building had a patio.

You never knew when you were going to strike lucky. Locale and Spellbind were _both_ on the roof, and Tseng kept a very low profile, careful not to create a silhouette as he took up a position in the shadows amidst the rusty pipes and compressors of an aircon unit. He'd have to come back with something weather-resistant to keep an eye up here, but in the meantime, he carefully clicked a few pictures.

Spellbind didn't look his way, but his posture changed subtly, into a shape of situational awareness that Tseng was very familiar with in himself. He prepared himself to move fast if he had to, thinking of a few ways to protect his camera, but then Locale laughed, and neither made any moves like they were going anywhere soon. In fact...

They were kissing now, though you couldn't see Locale's face because Spellbind's distinctive hair was in the way. Tseng took a few more pictures.

They finally got up, presumably to head somewhere more private, but -- well, no. Their new position, with Spellbind leaning against a large concrete planter containing a shade tree, offered an almost ideal view of Locale kneeling to suck Spellbind's cock. It was the kind of vantage you got once or twice a year, if you were lucky. Not just the action, which was paydirt but far from enough to break Tseng's professionalism, though he wasn't made of stone and he did have to adjust himself in his pants to continue to crouch comfortably as he reeled off another set of pictures. It was the position, the lighting, the line of sight. Great. Almost _too_ good.

Spellbind was looking _right at him_.

He forced himself not to freeze, but to remain supple in the shadows, to not let Spellbind know he knew he'd been made. It was difficult; despite his extensive training, deep as instinct, Spellbind was intimidating in a way that almost usurped the senses. Tseng had never been formally introduced to Locale, but knew him intimately, from being in his apartment and filtering his trash, digging up his past and even having made a few reconnaissance trips to check up on his ailing mother. He knew the man, and moreover, was highly familiar with his very particular breed of fearless, self-absorbed, ambitious rashness that it took to be so carefree around what was objectively the most physically dangerous person in the world.

Spellbind had lost direct interest in Tseng's presence, thank gods, getting caught up in having his cock sucked as if he were any other man. He swept the long silver hair over his shoulder to the front of his body -- on the side that didn't obscure Tseng's view of Locale eagerly working on the half of his cock that was clearly all he could fit in his mouth. Locale also had his hand deep between Spellbind's legs, Spellbind's hands holding himself open as --

They moved again, Spellbind braced by the arms against the planter he'd been leaning on, and Tseng had the dubious distinction of seeing yet another Shinra's _gwáilóu_ ass as Locale dropped his pants, rucked his shirt up, and started fucking him. With Spellbind turned away, Tseng let himself shake his head minutely. He'd have to reevaluate Locale in light of the fact that he was clearly more reckless than his projected demeanor and current personality evaluation indicated. His cock was also bigger and thicker than Tseng had, well, imagined. One couldn't be stoic _all_ the time.

He went to take another set of pictures -- maybe he'd keep a copy or two for himself; he liked the look of Locale bent over another man, whoever it was -- but his camera was full. Cursing internally, he patted his jacket pocket for a spare roll of film, but he'd left it behind in favor of the additional spy camera and his packet of cigarettes. Shit, Veld would be angry that he'd dropped the ball on documenting this level of detail. It was hard enough getting a textured handle on Locale -- the guy had deliberately filed himself smooth -- without rookie fuck-ups like this.

Maybe he'd be a _little_ unprofessional in his report, just this once. There was already more on his camera than he'd ever expected to get. Maybe he'd keep this last bit for himself. Tseng worked more than overtime, keeping his indulgences to a minimum. His job was his life, and he was fine with that, but... Locale was really pacing himself, fucking slow and deep, while Spellbind arched his muscular back and worked his own cock. They looked good in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with sightlines or personnel data models.

_Fuck it_, he thought, slipping the full camera back into a safely zippered pocket, and adjusting his cock again. He had enough sense not to pull it out now, but he focused on filing the details away for later -- report or no report. Veld didn't care if Lazard was a hair-puller, but Tseng sure did.

It was, after all, his job to watch.

\------

“Alright, so here’s the deal. We just watch this dumb sonofabitch, make sure he’s not running too many schemes on or off Company time, or meeting with terrorists, or getting killed in an alley. Other than that, mostly we run damage control on the rumor mill.

“Two important things to remember about the target. First thing, he ain’t codesign Acme’s son. It doesn’t matter what he looks like or what anybody – and I mean _anybody_ – says. Company line is that Acme has only one kid, got it? Second thing, he’s not fucking codesign Spellbind.

“You really _are_ a rookie. _That’s_ codesign Spellbind, right there. Clearly not getting blown by the target, obviously, as you can see. By the way, if you’re close enough to get this kind of photo, assume Spellbind has noticed you, because he definitely has, and you should book it, because he’s much faster than you, and if you’re lucky he’ll just smash your camera. He hasn’t killed any Turks yet, but you could be the first. Just keep a respectful distance, and log it when they enter and exit a secluded situation. Which they will not, because it’s definitely not a _thing_ that’s going on, capiche?

"Anyway, the rumor mill. Ah, the rumor mill. Sometimes people talk too much about those two important things I mentioned about the target, and we give ‘em a little visit, remind ‘em of what reality is like. Usually folks are pretty reasonable. This ain’t the kind of high-octane dirt worth someone’s job, or money, or their metacarpals, y'know? It’s just tabloid shit, and that’s why we dump it downhill on a rookie like you. The target himself doesn’t really matter too much – like I said, he’s just a dumb sonofabitch. But he’s key to the reputations of Acme and Spellbind, and they’re key to the reputation of the Company. So we keep this dumb sonofabitch squeaky fuckin’ clean no matter what he steps in, you hear?

"It’s not exactly a hardship gig. Just keep tabs on the guy outside work, make notes of his comings and goings, call me or Tseng immediately if he gets bagged and bundled in a car by ninjas, and don’t get in a situation where you could conceivably make any kind of eye contact with Spellbind, and you’re good. He’s actually pretty fucking boring; does the same routine most of the time. Don’t know what he sees in him, personally. Must give one hell of a blowjob.”


End file.
